


a day in this life

by CapriciousCrab



Series: Post-apocalyptic au [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 20:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18763426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousCrab/pseuds/CapriciousCrab
Summary: They're a million miles away from the life they had once led. Penthouses and fame have given way to a small cabin and basic necessities but they're still them. Still Dan and Phil, as it should always ever be.





	a day in this life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Mandy! I hope you have an amazing day!!

 

_He’s waiting for Phil to wake. To climb out of their cozy bed and join him in the lounge for the next episode of Fruits Basket, his favorite cereal just waiting for the milk to be poured. The flat is warm; filled with a soft golden light that makes him feel drowsy and safe and he can’t wait any longer and calls out to Phil to wake up._

 

_He hears a noise outside of the windows of their flat but it doesn’t interest him. No, he doesn’t need to listen to the sounds out there- the swelling sound of panic and screaming and running, it’s not for them. It can’t touch them here in their flat. They’re safe. They’re fine. It’s fine._

 

_The light is stronger now, strobing flashes of intensity that cast strange shadows on the wall when he turns toward their bedroom. He can hear Phil calling to him. Phil needs him now so he ignores the way sweat is starting to bead on his forehead, dripping down to sting his eyes. It’s hot, too hot and he needs to turn the heating down but Phil is there._

 

_Phil’s standing there and his eyes are desperate and frightened. His limbs are grossly elongated, his fingers reaching out to him in entreaty, begging Dan without words for help as his body seems to stretch before his eyes. His mouth is moving but Dan can’t hear the words over the rushing of blood in his ears, his heart beating a terrified staccato beat._

 

_He wants to rush to Phil’s side but when he tries to move he finds that his feet have fused into the floor. He feels no pain, just a strange and terrible desperation that makes him reach frantically for the safety of Phil’s arms._

 

_“Dan… Danny… help me, please!”_

 

_The faint sound of Phil’s terrified voice makes its way into his ears. He looks up and Phil is crying, his face melting like so much wax. He cries out at the sight and then there’s a tremendous burst of light that seems to last for an eternity and when he can at last open his eyes, Phil is gone._

 

_Sucking in a breath, he opens his mouth to scream-_

 

Dan jerks awake to weak sunlight filtering in through the window, muted by the imperfect glass encased in a rough wood frame. His pillow is cold beneath his head, the frosty plume of his breath rising above him as he blows out the silent scream that had been trapped in his lungs.

 

He blinks away the remnants of his dream and begins dragging in slow, calming breaths. It’s not the first nightmare that he’s had but this one was particularly fucked up, even for his brain. He can tell it's going to be a frigid day, the kind not even the sun can warm, and debates curling back up into a ball to stay warm and brood. But he knows Phil will be holding breakfast for him so he reluctantly peels back their quilt.

 

He can't help the yelp that leaves his lips once his feet hit the ice-cold planks of the floor. His toes curl in protest as he snatches up the thick wool socks he'd kicked off in the middle of the night and tugs them on. Yanking the quilt back over his legs, he rewarms himself and listens to the quiet sounds of the morning.

 

Gone are the ambient noises he can still recall so clearly. The sound of the kettle boiling water for morning coffee, the noisy brightness of their favorite anime playing in the background, of Phil laughing down the line to his mum; they're nothing but memories now, a few lingering sensory fragments from a different life.

 

It's been three years since their lives had changed irrevocably. The largest solar storm in recorded history had erupted from the sun, its massive blasts of radiation battering the Earth for months. Jamming radar systems and satellites everywhere, the swarm of solar particles had struck Earth’s magnetic field in a matter of days, overwhelming power grids around the world. One by one they had failed, a massive rolling blackout that swept over each continent until the world was left dark and silent. Unable to restore power, society had descended into a chaos it was only just starting to claw back from.

 

Dan sighs and rubs his hands over his face, trying to scrub any lingering traces of melancholy from it before leaving the bedroom. Years of practice have given Phil an uncanny ability to read Dan's moods like a book and the last thing he wants to do is set off Phil's overprotective anxiety.

 

Leaving the door to their room open in the hope that the heat will filter in he makes his way to the main room and stops to take in the sight of Phil sat on the floor in front of the fire, head tilted back and eyes closed as he enjoys the heat. It stirs something at the back of his mind, a phantom moment from years ago that he can't quite place.

 

“ _What are you doing?”_

_“Just getting my morning butt warmth”_

 

He shakes the odd feeling off and takes a moment to just look. Phil's face is thinner now, with worry lines settling in places that were once smooth but he’s still as beautiful to him as the day they met. He lets the macabre image of dream Phil fade away and smiles when Phil wiggles his bum in delight.

 

“Is there room for one more?” he asks, unable to keep from snickering when Phil jumps at the sound of his voice.

 

“Jesus Christ, Dan! Scare me half to death, why don't you?”

 

He crosses the room and drops down next to Phil, pushing up against him until they're pressed together from shoulder to hip.

 

“Budge over a bit, would you? It's fucking freezing today,” Dan whines.

 

Phil shuffles over until they're cozied up together in front of the blaze, resting his head on Dan's shoulder. Listening to the crackling hiss of the fire as it warms them both, Dan lets the echo of the past drift away.

 

“It's market day today.”

 

Dan groans and flops dramatically onto his back. Fucking market day. He hates everything about market day; having to hike out to the outpost when it's cold enough to shrivel his balls, haggling over goods he used to be able to buy with the click of a button, the mass of people crowding around trying to get the best items before they're gone.

 

But more than anything he hates looking into the faces of those desperately trying get by, their tired eyes full of battered pride as they hang about the edges of the stalls and hope for benevolence.

 

“I can go alone,” Phil offers. “We don't need much this month and I-”

 

“No.” Dan sits back up with a scowl to give Phil a hard stare. “We have one rule, Phil.”

 

“Never go to sleep on an argument?”

 

“I- what?” he sputters incredulously. “No, you dingus! Well, yes but you know that's not what I mean!”

 

Phil laughs and pokes him in the cheek before flicking the end of Dan's nose.

 

“I know. I just like to wind you up a bit,” he says with a soft smile.

 

But Dan doesn't smile back. His hand comes up to cup the back of Phil's neck, his fingertips tracing over the puckered scar there. “Always together, Phil. That's the rule.”

 

Phil's smile fades at the reminder. They've only been separated once since the fall of everything. Dan had been too ill to make the trek to the outpost so Phil had gone alone, only to return bloodied and battered. He had sat quiet and shaking while Dan had tended to his wounds, his tears falling into Phil's hair like silent rain.

 

Phil reaches up and brings Dan's hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss of comfort and promise to his palm before closing Dan's fingers over it.

 

“I'm alright,” he soothes softly. He gives Dan a gentle nudge and it helps pull Dan from the memory of that horrible day and the guilt he feels every time he runs his fingers over that scarred patch of skin.

 

Phil drops his head back to Dan's shoulder and snuggles impossibly closer, humming in contentment when Dan wraps his arm around his waist.

 

“We'll go together. But not just yet.”

 

**

 

Dan can feel his shoulders tense as soon as they pass through the rough-hewn gates of the outpost. Always the more outwardly social of the two of them, Phil's never felt the same dread that Dan feels when they come here. To Phil, this is nothing more than a place to get what they need and to send the occasional letter if the post is running.

 

For Dan, it's a reminder that their survival is dependent on what they can find within the wooden walls of the one-story building before them. That payment is now rendered in trade; exchanging goods or services with each other as they scratch out a meager living, fighting through the throngs of people all desperate to get enough to last until the next market day.

 

He hikes his pack a bit higher on his back and follows Phil inside, shaking his head in bemusement as a chorus of greetings rings out. Even now people are drawn to Phil; patting his back or shaking his hand with a smile. They greet Dan too, nodding in his direction with slightly more reserved smiles which he returns. That's enough for him.

 

The mad cacophony of voices makes his ears ring. The sounds of shouting and haggling have him on edge, his shoulders pulling up in helpless defense while he fights the urge to flee, to dash out the door and run back to the safety of their little home near the woods.

 

Anxious to get this trip over with, he nudges Phil's shoulder and jerks his head toward the busy stall near the back corner.

 

“Going to see what Jem has today. I won't be long.”

 

Phil's eyes search his for a moment or two as if he can read his mind and sense the odd mood Dan had woken with. He lets his hand brush Dan's and links their pinkies for comfort before pulling away.

 

“Not too long,” Phil repeats softly. “We'll be quick today.”

 

The surge of affection that wells up inside him shouldn't catch him by surprise anymore but it does. He'll be annoyed later by the way Phil can read him so easily but for now, he can only be grateful.

 

Turning towards Jem's, he winds his way through the crowd and avoids making eye contact with the others hawking their meager wares. Jem's eyes light up at the sight of Dan as his thin face breaks out in a toothy grin.

 

“Dan! I've missed that face of yours,” he cries. His smoke and gravel voice is loud enough to be overheard and Dan can feel his cheeks warm with sheepish embarrassment.

 

“It's only been a month, Jem,” he grumbles as he shrugs his pack off of his shoulders. “Besides, I know what you're after and it isn't my face.”

 

Jem throws his head back and laughs, his dirty blond hair falling into his eyes. It's a full, rich laugh that seems to fill the air as it shakes his tiny body, heads turning to see the cause of his mirth.

 

“Oh my God! I didn't…ugh, you know what I meant!” He laughs along with him and feels his cheeks flame when he sees Phil smirking at him from across the room before shaking his head and glaring at him in mock jealousy. Dan resists the childish urge to stick his tongue out and turns back to the man behind the table.

 

“What do you have today, Jem?” He's looking for some stronger painkillers this time around. Phil's migraines have been getting worse and he hopes to find something to give him a measure of relief.

 

Getting down to business Jem reaches underneath the wood plank that serves as a counter and pulls out a box. Sturdy and well cared for, the gleaming metal box has multiple latches that lock tight, keeping potential thieves at bay.

 

“Mostly the usual- aspirin powder, liniment, some lip salve. Supply is a little short this time but I hope to have a better selection next month.”

 

Shaking off the slight sense of panic at the thought of decreasing supplies, he looks over the things spread before him.

 

“I'll take some of the aspirin powder and the lip salve then. Oh, do you have any plasters? Best to add those too.” Dan says, digging inside of his pack. Closing his hand around a smooth round jar, he fishes it from his bag and sets it on the counter.

 

Jem's eyes light up at the sight, crinkling at the corners with his smile. “Is that what I think it is?” he asks eagerly.

 

“You'd think it was a drug the way you lot act,” Dan snorts. “But yes, Jem. It's the apple butter.”

 

He can't help the laugh that escapes when Jem blows a kiss to the sky before turning toward Phil to send another in his direction.

 

“Bless him and his apple butter! Here, let me wrap these for you before you shove ‘em in your bag.”

 

He folds them neatly in a small scrap of linen before handing it to Dan, tucking the jar of apple butter beneath his table. He beckons Dan closer then whispers in his ear.

 

“Go over and see Maeve. I heard she has something your Phil might like.”

 

Intrigued in spite of himself he nods, waving goodbye to Jem as he moves along the stalls. Maeve's stall isn't one that he visits often so he's curious to see what she might have that would please Phil.

 

He spots it right away and can't help his sharp intake of breath or the way his mouth waters a bit at the sight. His fingers itch to reach out and touch, to slide over that slightly battered wrapper and lift it to his nose. He’s positively shocked that it hasn’t been snapped up before now and he can’t help but glance around and hope that nobody’s watching.

 

“Hey Maeve, doing alright?” he asks, his eyes returning again and again to the prize laid out in the middle of the table.

 

“Hello, Daniel. I am well, thank you. What can I do for you?”

 

“I'd like the sweet, please. I have apple butter this week.” He reaches into his pack and grabs a jar, placing it on the table.

 

“Of course, Daniel. But it will be two jars if you please,” her voice soft but firm. Unlike Jem, she’s all business.

 

He freezes, eyes shooting up to meet her gaze. “Two? Maeve…”

 

His voice trails off as he caresses the last jar hidden in his bag. He'd hoped to trade for the new book he'd eyed up last month, his brain desperate for something new. But how could he turn down this rare treat?

 

Her brown eyes are steady on his, the set of her shoulders indicating her unwillingness to negotiate so he sighs in resignation and hands it over.

 

“It’s a hard bargain, Maeve. But it'll be worth it,” he says with a smile. “See you next time.”

 

Tucking the package deep inside his bag, he turns and crosses the room to find Phil once more. He glances over to where the lone book had been but the table is empty and he can’t help but sigh in disappointment. God knows when another book will make its way out here, but before he can mourn the loss of it he hears Phil’s laugh ring out. Dan’s lips twitch in response, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he comes up behind him

 

Phil's engrossed in conversation, his eyes bright and happy as he chatters away but he turns as if sensing Dan's arrival, attuned to his every move.

 

“You get what you need?”

 

“I got what _you_ need, you clumsy sod,” Dan retorts, “which is more plasters and pain reliever.”

 

Phil shoves him and laughs before turning to say his goodbyes. “We're off then. See you all next month.”

 

Exiting to a chorus of farewells they push back through the door and make a left toward the tiny, dilapidated post office to drop off the handful of letters they have to be sent. Mail service only comes around every other month so they don’t want to miss it.

 

“Did Frank have any real shampoo this time?” Dan asks. He longs to give his hair a proper wash with something other than the tin of soft soap they had picked up last month. It leaves him feeling slightly greasy and he tries not to dwell on the way it’s made; the thought of rubbing rendered animal fat over his body has the long-buried vegan within him cringing in dismay.

 

“No shampoo today,” Phil says sadly. “He said a shipment might be in next time but we would need to be there extra early to have a chance at it.”

 

Dan sighs and begins to have a mental debate about his need for clean curls vs his need for sleep. He’s trying to convince himself that he could always come home and nap after when Phil clears his throat a bit sheepishly.

 

“I, uh, got something else though.”

 

“Phil…”

 

“It felt wrong to leave empty-handed! I can’t help it.”

 

_“I felt too awkward to leave without buying anything so I bought a Kinder Egg.”_

_“You need to stop doing that!”_

 

Ghosts of past drift through his head once again as Phil looks at him with eyes that beg him to understand, and he can’t seem to muster up the indignation needed to scold him for wasting resources on things they don’t need. Heaving a sigh he holds his hand out, asking to be shown Phil’s latest acquisition.

 

“Let’s see it, then.”

 

Phil smiles at him as he reaches carefully into his bag. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

 

He pulls out a tiny red pot and places it in Dan’s palm. There’s a bit of twine wrapped around and tied in a haphazard bow and inside the pot is a tiny succulent. Nestled in a bed of gravel-topped soil, the leaves are a little battered around the edges but still standing tall, surviving in a world that’s much harsher than it used to be.

 

He runs a fingertip over the little plant and finds himself ridiculously close to tears. It’s such a simple thing really, nothing more than a slightly scraggly plant in a pot. But it serves as a reminder, not only of their old plants with their fancy pots but of their own struggle for survival in this new world in which they’re still learning how to exist.

 

He feels Phil’s hand slip into his and looks up to see him watching Dan with soft eyes. “You were right, I do like it.”  He gives him a little smile and strokes a fragile leaf once more before handing it back. “And I know we'll find the perfect spot for it.”

 

“C’mon Phil, let’s go home.”

 

**

 

Home is a small wooden cabin on the edge of a thick woodland copse; large enough to supply firewood and a measure of privacy but not so deep as to trigger Dan’s fear. The icy freshwater spring that runs alongside the trees is clean and plentiful and provides more than enough for their needs. He should be grateful for what they have; he _is_ grateful. But today the past is taking up space in his head, eating away at his hard-won peace until he can feel the bitter fog of depression lingering at the edges, its misty tendrils searching for entry.

 

The feeling of relief when they walk through the door is overwhelming, the tension that held him alert and wary throughout the day finally draining away. He unpacks his bag, leaving Phil’s surprise inside to pull out later, and tucks it away underneath the bed. Heading back out to the main room to tug on his work boots, he steadfastly ignores the way Phil is looking at him with an assessing gaze.

 

“I’ve got the outside tonight, ok?” Dan says as he shrugs into his coat.  “I’m just- I need…”

 

His voice trails off as he runs out of words, but he doesn’t need to say anything more because Phil understands. Phil understands and Dan’s so goddamn grateful he doesn’t have to try and explain that his head is a fucking mess, with a thousand emotions trying to crush him down to the ground today.

 

He waits as Phil comes closer, reaching above Dan’s head to the little cupboard that holds their outerwear to snag a knit hat and tug it down over Dan’s head to cover his ears.

 

“Wear your gloves, it’s cold.” He presses a soft kiss to the side of Dan’s mouth before turning back to the counter, letting Dan escape out into the late afternoon air.

 

Dan heads to the winter garden first, grabbing the wicker harvesting basket from its hook on the side post. He and Phil had been woefully ignorant when they first started gardening and had assumed that things only grew in the warmer months. They’d been lucky enough to meet someone at the outpost who had guided them through how and when to plant, teaching them how to get through the long cold winters.

 

He walks now through the tidy rows of onions, asparagus, and spinach; plucking a handful of each as he goes. There aren’t many weeds to be found in winter but he pulls the few that he sees, taking a perverse sort of pleasure at yanking these invaders from his carefully tended space.

 

He can hear Phil moving around inside when he sets the basket by the porch- a metallic clanking that makes him think that maybe Phil started dinner early tonight. He feels bad about leaving him to it but he still needs to take care of Bob. So he turns and heads over to the shed, casting a wary look toward the trees before wrestling open the wonky door.

 

They really need to fix that, Dan thinks as he lights the oil lamp resting on the stool beside the door. Soft bleating greets him as he grabs an armful of hay to dump into Bob’s trough, laughing when he feels her soft head bump against his knee. He’d balked at getting a goat, of owning an animal for anything but companionship but practicality had won out in the end.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know, it’s dinnertime. For me too so let's get this shit done quickly tonight.”

 

Dan shovels out the dirty straw littering the pen and scatters fresh, tossing in a few handfuls of alfalfa as a treat for later. He brings in the stool and bucket and starts milking, laughing when she startles and swings her head around to give him a look when his chilled hands make contact with her teat.

 

He gives her a pat by way of apology and lets his mind go blank while he milks, the repetitive motion soothing a bit of the agitation humming beneath his skin. He doesn’t want to think right now, doesn’t want to remember the way things were and everything he’s lost. But the thoughts are loud and insistent so he lets them in.

 

He knows that he and Phil are more fortunate than most. They have a home and they have food, their gardens and their little goat. They've learned to make things like the apple butter and soft goat cheese in order to trade for the items that they can't make or grow. They even have a community, such as it is. But most importantly, they have each other.

 

So he feels ungrateful on days like these when he's steeped in memories of his old life. The three years feel like thirty when he thinks about how long it's been since he'd last listened to music or taken a hot shower. He misses the simple pleasure of biting into a slice of pizza, of feeling the cheese burn the roof of his mouth because he was greedy and couldn't wait for it to cool.

 

Bob steps on his foot when she shifts, jolting him from the spiral he was in danger of sinking into. So he pats her again, this time in thanks as he gets to his feet.

 

“Thanks for the milk, Bob. See you in the morning.”

 

He shivers as he kicks off his boots, leaving them on the stoop outside of the door. He'll rinse them tomorrow when he's not so bloody cold. Hauling bucket and basket into the house he calls out for Phil.

 

“Hey Phil, can you come grab…”

 

He stops dead when he sees the old tin hip-bath set up in front of the fire, wispy curls of steam rising from the hot water within. There's a stool placed next to it holding a glass of water, their tin of soap… and the book from the market.

 

Sucking in his breath at the sight of it, his gaze shoots up to meet Phil's where he stands smiling at him from the counter before his eyes drift back to the book.

 

“Phil.” His name falls from Dan's mouth in a breathy exhale. He's rooted to the floor, unable to take a single step toward the gift that awaits him and he looks at Phil helplessly. “How do you always _know_?”

 

Crossing the room to take the pail and basket from Dan's frozen hands, Phil sets them on the floor before peeling Dan's coat from his shoulders.

 

“I saw the way you looked at it last market day and I wanted to give you a bit of happiness,” he says simply as he undresses Dan with careful hands. “I know you’ve been a bit restless the last couple of weeks.”

 

He drops the shirt and jeans into a heap on the floor before kneeling down to tug Dan's socks off of his feet, warming his cold toes between his hands.

 

“I also know how much you used to love your baths so go on, get in while the water's still warm.”

 

Phil stands and nudges Dan toward the tub, turning to light the oil lamps as Dan slides his pants off and settles into the tub. The hot water feels heavenly against his skin, soothing his aching muscles and warming his bones as he leans back against the tub.

 

He reaches out and snags Phil's wrist as he comes closer, pulling him down to plant a warm kiss to his mouth. He wishes he could pour all of the emotion swirling inside of him into that kiss, that Phil could taste the depth of Dan's immense love and gratitude he feels at Phil's care of him. And perhaps he can, because when the kiss ends and Phil pulls away, his cheeks are pink and his eyes are filled with fondness.

 

“I love you, Phil. So fucking much.”

 

A handful of words that he's spoken a million times in the years that they've been together but he means them just as fiercely as the first time he’d ever spoken them out loud. Simple words but they still make Phil's face glow with happiness.

 

“I love you too.” He presses a kiss to the top of Dan's head and rests his cheek there for a moment before pulling away. “Relax a bit and enjoy your bath. I've got dinner.”

 

So he does.

 

He soaks in front of the fire and listens to the sounds of Phil preparing dinner; the rhythmic chopping and Phil's quiet, offkey singing quieting the noise in his brain to a more tolerable hum. He feels spoiled and decadent and best of all, he feels loved.

 

“So what are we having for dinner this evening, Phil?” he calls before dipping his head down to rinse his hair, cursing the tiny tub and filmy soap. Yeah, they're definitely going to try for that shampoo next week.

 

“Mmm, it's an old favorite.”

 

“Stir-fry??”

 

_“Dan is making a Chinese feast.”_

_“Tasty, tasty stir-fry. Yeah!”_

 

“Aww, you guessed!” Phil laughed. “Come on, it's time to drag yourself from the tub and eat.”

 

The sound of a sizzling pan fills Dan's ears and he remembers their Manchester days when the only thing they could reliably cook with any semblance of success was a stir-fry.

 

This time the memory makes him smile and he lets the past hold him for a moment before setting it free, rejoining Phil in the present and the warm bubble of amber joy he's created for Dan tonight.

 

*

 

He'd surprised Phil after dinner when the dishes had been done and the tub cleared away. Slipping away while Phil stoked the fire, he'd been waiting when Phil turned around to look for Dan.

 

“I thought maybe you could read in front of the fire tonight while I- oh!”

 

The look on Phil's face had been pure shock, followed by a giddy delight when he'd saw what lay in Dan's outstretched palm.

 

“Is that- is that chocolate? Real, actual chocolate?” he whispered. He reaches out a shaky hand to touch but snatches it back, looking up at Dan's face. “It’s for me?”

 

“Of course it's for you, you idiot!” Dan says fondly, rolling his eyes playfully. “You're still the only one I've ever bought chocolates for.”

 

The chocolate bar hit the floor with a soft thump when Phil launched himself into Dan's arms, squeezing him tight and peppering his face with kisses. Dan laughed and squeezed back before stooping down to pick up the battered treat.

 

“Come on, let's get cozy.”

 

*

 

They drag the pillows and quilt from the bed and make themselves a proper little nest in front of the fire. Dan’s legs are stretched out before him with Phil's head a comforting weight on his thighs when he opens the cover of the book, breathing in the scent of dusty pages and faded ink.

 

Phil feeds him bites of old chocolate gone white at the edges, the texture grainy on his tongue but it's still sweet and good as he reads aloud bits of terrible prose and poetry until Phil drifts off to sleep in his lap.

 

They've struggled to survive these last three years but they're learning to thrive, making a new life for themselves in this world.  And when he looks down into Phil's sleeping face nestled against his thigh, he's reminded that there are days in this life that are good, that will always be worth waking up and fighting for.

 

They're a million miles away from the life they had once led. Penthouses and fame have given way to a small cabin and basic necessities but they're still them. Still Dan and Phil, as it should always ever be.

 

Rubbing away a smear of chocolate left behind on Phil's bottom lip before pressing a kiss to his forehead, Dan turns back to his book and reads until the fire burns down to embers and the night kisses the morning hello.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Evening42 for nudging me in the right direction and Sarah for being amazing in general <3


End file.
